


Graceless Gods

by GrimmVertigo



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Religious, M/M, Magic, Nonbeliever!Nyx, Priest!Noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-22 01:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11956413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrimmVertigo/pseuds/GrimmVertigo
Summary: Noctis, the Chosen Priest of the Astrals, is abandoned by the very gods he pledged his life to.Nyx, a nobody from Galahd, has never cared for the gods, and holds no love for them.This is how they meet.





	1. How it All Started

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me while I was watching someone on Twitch play Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice. The inspiration was only a single line, so the plot of the game really has nothing to do with the fic. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, proceed with caution.

Nyx finds him wandering through the forest, half dead from exhaustion. 

He'd been out hunting, hoping to catch something big enough to see him through the worst of the oncoming winter. The sky had gone from being lightly overcast to an angry rolling grey in under an hour, heralding the entrance of an oncoming storm, and it set Nyx on edge. Storms that came on as quickly as this one promised to be ruthless; he wanted to be back in his little house with a fresh kill before the worst of it hit. 

There's the shifting of dirt to his left, behind some scraggly bushes and copse of trees. It had sounded heavy; Nyx hopes it was something big as he readies his bow and creeps around the greenery. His hopes are dashed when he sees it's just another person, but his level of caution jumps through the roof, because people didn't just _wander into_ his forest. He may not have had much faith in the gods but he still had faith in magic, in the runes he'd carved into the trees to keep people out. An average person shouldn't have been able to cross the wards – they'd get turned back around and end back up on the road. 

Yet as he watches and follows the trespasser, Nyx is brought to the sudden realization that this man isn't any average person. His dark hair is a tangled mess and obscures his face, with bits hanging around his shoulders, falling out of a sloppy braid. But the rest of him is clad in black, a cloak hanging from his shoulders, garnished with gold attachments that were tarnished and broken in some places. 

The man is a haphazard mess, but Nyx would recognize a priest of the Astrals anywhere. The question of why one was so far from a temple burned through his mind. Before Nyx could really comprehend what he's doing, he's shouldering his bow and stepping out of hiding, making himself known to the man. 

The priest stops and whirls around at Nyx's approaching footsteps, his right hand curls around a wickedly sharp dagger, ready to strike. Nyx raises his hands in surrender and stands in place. 

"You're an awful long way from the road, stranger," Nyx says in a calm, even tone. "And you made it past my wards. Impressive." 

The priest is silent for a moment; Nyx can see a pair of bright blue eyes beneath shaggy black hair, darting around, as if looking for a way out. He looks like a trapped animal, and when he speaks, his voice is rough with disuse. 

"Wasn't that hard. Barely even noticed them." 

Nyx's brows shoot up in surprise. "Did you now?" He knew his wards were nothing to be played with, knew they were strong enough to keep even the priests out. This one must be special somehow. "But you still noticed them, yeah? Still knew they were there? Why bother if you knew they were there to keep you out?" 

The man's defensive stance falters as he shifts from foot to foot, looking nervous. 

"That's... That's kind of why I did it...?" He pauses, his hand clenching the hilt of the dagger and shaking a little. "Had to get out, had to get away from everything, from-- from the city and the temples and-" He cuts himself off and seems to deflate. His shoulders droop, the dagger dropping from his hands as he brings them to his face. "Had to get away." 

At this point, Nyx is stepping closer to the priest, reaching out to gingerly put a hand on the man's shoulder. He looks up, startled, but otherwise doesn't move from the contact. This close, Nyx can see the exhaustion that pulls at those ocean blue eyes, the dark shadows beneath them, the pale complexion of tired skin. He wants to help this man. 

"Why don't you come back home with me?" Nyx asks, making eye contact. "I can get you some food, a warm fire, a place to sleep." Thunder chose that time to roll through the sky above them, making Nyx look upwards. "It's not a good idea for anyone to be out in this storm, anyways." 

The priest hesitates for only a second before nodding, looking on at Nyx expectantly, waiting for him to lead the way. 

Thankfully, they make the trek back to Nyx's little cabin before the rain came down. It patters against the windowpanes as Nyx hangs his bow and quiver, shrugging his coat off afterword. The priest is still standing in front of the door, looking lost. Nyx huffs a soft laugh and gestures to his small living room, made up of a small loveseat and an old beat-up recliner, which face an open-hearth fireplace half set into the wall. 

"Go ahead and make yourself at home. I'll start on dinner." 

There's a small kitchen in a separate room at the back of the cabin, filled with all the small luxuries from the cities he could fit. A small refrigerator sits in one corner, squeezed in between the end of the counter and a massive icebox where he stores all his meat. A two-burner electric stovetop sits on the counter, powered by a generator Nyx keeps in a small back room. There's even a sink with running hot and cold water. 

He doesn't hardly use anything in the kitchen, mostly from wanting to save the generator for emergencies. Now, Nyx just wants to keep an eye on his guest, so he pulls out a pot of stew from the night before and takes it out to the living room, where he starts a fire and sets the pot over it to warm up. 

The priest is sitting gingerly on the edge of the couch, looking like he's afraid to touch anything but slouching with an obvious bone-weary exhaustion. Nyx takes a seat next to him and looks him over. 

"I'm Nyx, by the way." He holds his hand out in greeting. The priest looks at it for a moment, then raises his own. 

"Noctis." 

When their hands meet, there's an arc of raw magic that jumps between their palms, startling them both. Noctis draws his hand to his chest while Nyx just stares at his, a small, knowing smile gracing his lips. 

"Not every day something like that happens. You must be the most powerful priest I've ever met." 

" _Was_ ," Noctis says suddenly. Nyx looks up to see black brows furrowed in frustration, blue eyes narrowed, staring into the fire. "I _was_ a powerful priest. I left, remember?" 

Nyx nods, the smile slipping from his lips as he leans forward and stirs the stew. "Yeah, you said... You said you had to get away?" He sits back and throws Noctis a glance. "Can I ask why?" 

Noctis is silent. Nyx waits for an answer for a moment, then sighs and gets up to retrieve bowls and spoons from the kitchen. By the time he returns, the stew is warm enough to eat comfortably. He fills both bowls, hands one to Noctis, then digs into his own. Nyx is on his fourth or fifth bite when Noctis finally speaks. 

"The gods abandoned me." 

Nyx looks up, surprised to hear an answer. Noctis is staring at the bowl of stew, carefully taking a bite after a moment. His eyes dart over to Nyx, who waits expectantly for the rest of an explanation, then looks back down at the bow. 

"I come from a family of priests and priestesses," Noctis says softly. "I was born and raised into the role of a priest, made to believe that the Astrals were these... These mighty beings that would grant help as often as they would cruelly take." He pauses to take a bite of stew. "My father always said I was special, that I was _blessed_ with the gift of the Astral's magic, touched by Bahamut himself, destined for great things, I... I worshipped how I was told, led sacrifices in the name of the gods, I gave them my _life_ , and... The gods _abandoned_ me when I needed them most." 

At this point, Nyx has set his bowl on the edge of the hearth and has to reach out to take Noctis's bowl from his shaking hands, else the stew spill onto the floor. Nyx offers him a sympathetic glance. 

"I've never cared for the Astrals," he says softly, drawing Noctis' attention away from the fire. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. "My sister sacrificed herself for them, in a moment of desperation. Nothing came of it." He opens his eyes and turns his head to Noctis, who watches him with wide eyes and parted lips. "You'll find no love for the gods here, so I guess you're at least in good company." 

Noctis tilts his head like a confused bird, and Nyx swears it's the cutest thing he's ever seen. 

"Then where does your magic come from, if not from the Astrals?" 

Nyx smirks. "I’m not from Lucis, little priest. My magic comes from the wilds, from runes and the earth. I have no need for any godly magic." 

Noctis's eyes grow wider, if it's even possible, and he scooches forward on the couch, practically buzzing with curiosity. "Where are you from, then?" 

' _He's so cute_ ,' Nyx thinks. 

"Galahd," Nyx says. 

"Really?!" All trace of timidness is suddenly gone from Noctis. "I've always wanted to go there, but my father forbade my leaving Lucis. What's it like? How are the Astrals worshipped? What kind of food do you have there?" 

Noctis prattles on question after question and Nyx humors him, doing his best to answer what he can. The storm rages on outside the cabin, but the fire crackles in the hearth and the soup is warm and filling and Noctis has opened up considerably since Nyx first brought him into his home. They talk through the night like old friends, slowly growing more comfortable around each other. 

Nyx, at some point, breaks out an old bottle of wine when the conversation lulls, and they sip at it from coffee mugs as the rain continues to hammer down onto the roof. The fire has died to a small flicker and Noctis has shed his cloak and the jacket underneath, leaving him in a button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. They lounge on the couch, warm and content – or, at least in Noctis's opinion, more content than before. 

The wine, warmth, and relative safety of the cabin is making Noctis's eyes heavy when Nyx speaks up, breaking a silence that had stretched between them for several minutes. 

"You're welcome to stay here, you know." 

Noctis hums a question in his throat, turning his head against the back of the couch to look at Nyx. "What?" 

Nyx shifts on the couch, pointedly not looking at Noctis. "If you don't have anywhere else to go, I mean. You can stay here. With me. As long as you want." 

A confused frown crosses the priest's features as he sits up properly. 

"Are you sure? We barely know each other, and I don't want to intrude." 

"No, I don't mind," Nyx says with a shake of his head. "I'm okay with it. I mean, you're--" 

_\--You're cute and easy to talk to and I miss having company--_

"… It's nice to have someone around." Nyx clears his throat awkwardly and stares into his almost-empty mug of wine. "And you hate the gods as much as I do, so it's not that weird." 

Noctis is silent for a beat, then the air is filled with a soft laugh. Nyx's heart flutters a little at the sound. 

"Yeah, okay," Noctis says with a smile that quickly turns joking. "But you have to let me re-do your wards. If I could get through with no trouble, there's no telling what else could wander in." 

Nyx laughs and nods. "You got yourself a deal."


	2. Beginning & End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Details about Noctis's past are revealed, and Nyx does something about it.

Nyx doesn't learn the truth behind Noctis's past for several months. 

There are small hints that Nyx is sometimes able to glean, because Noctis talks _a lot_ after a couple glasses of wine and sometimes Noctis is so relaxed he forgets to watch what he says. Nyx learns that Noctis was a popular and well-loved priest in the city of Insomnia. He learns that Noctis would help anybody who needed it, even if it sometimes brought harm to himself. He learns that the Astrals had never _once_ rejected any of Noctis's prayers, and that because of this, Noctis always made sure that his prayers to the gods were _important_. 

Nyx learns that the beginning of Noctis's fall from the favor of the Astrals begins with a boy named Prompto. The story was told to him one murky evening not long after they meet, when dark clouds hid the sky and the wind rattled the trees of the forest and Noctis decided he was going to get drunk that night and Nyx couldn't stop him. Being drunk, there had been holes in Noct's story, but Nyx was able to infer what happened pretty well. 

Prompto had been the apprentice to a particularly dirty alchemist in the city. He was forced to sell bad potions and phony spells under the guise that they were the real deal, and Prompto was sick of it, so he ran to the temple to seek refuge. Noctis helped him nullify the contract with his master and found him a better one to apprentice under. Except the dirty alchemist cornered Noctis in the city one day and _did something_. 

Nyx couldn't tell if Noctis didn't want to or just couldn't explain what happened. The priest had gone silent, his brows furrowed and his crystal blue eyes hazy with wine. His story from then on out was disjointed and confusing. He kept mumbling about voices in his head and fire in his veins and blamed the sleazy alchemist for it all, saying he must have been cursed and that's why Bahamut hated him. 

That night, Nyx had carried a drunk, weepy Noctis to bed and vowed to limit how much the priest drank from then on. 

Nyx experiences the voices firsthand before he ever learns the end of Noctis's story. 

In the beginning, he had thought Noctis was just one of those people that talked to himself a lot, one of those people who liked to think aloud. But as the weeks dragged on and winter began to take its hold on the forest, Nyx discovered that Noctis _wasn't_ , in fact, talking to himself, but talking to someone Nyx just couldn't hear. They weren't kind conversations, either; Noctis would frequently lose his temper and snap at the voices. He would shake his head and squeeze his eyes shut and rub at his temples. 

Noctis outed himself one day, when the voices became too much and he shouted at them to " _Shut the fuck up!_ " in the middle of an otherwise silent forest. Nyx had startled and knocked back the arrow in his bow, ready to fire. But upon realizing what had happened, he'd dropped his bow and rushed over to Noctis. 

They sat up against a couple of trees as Noctis told the rest of his story. 

The alchemist had indeed cursed him with a spell whose intended purpose was to drive the victim insane. Except the alchemist hadn't taken into consideration the power of Noctis's magic and the Blessing of Bahamut, and the curse had a very _different_ effect. 

Noctis explained that the initial casting of the curse left him unconscious for two weeks, stuck in a fever state as his magic raged beyond control and literally _burned_ through his body. Noct had pulled his shirt up and shown Nyx the marks, the pink scars shaped like lightning bolts that ran along most of his right side, spreading out mostly along his back in an intricate web. Nyx had wanted to move to comfort him, but kept put as Noctis delved back into his story, his face scrunching in a wince when he talked about the voices. 

They had started to make themselves known almost a month later, and grew with intensity the nearer the Autumn Solstice drew. With the increase of the voices also came an increase in the instability of Noctis's magic, to the point where it would lash out with his emotions and injure people if they happened to be too close. 

Nyx would forever remember how _upset_ Noctis looked as he talked about the backlash from the people, how his whole figure drooped and hunched in on itself. By the time the rumors of Noctis losing his mind had spread and made their way back to him, Noct had given in and prayed to the Astrals for help. It was the first time he'd prayed for himself, the first time he'd asked for help for himself, and all he'd asked for was guidance, for a sign that would start him on the path to mending his magic and ridding himself of the voices. 

_Every time_ he had prayed for somebody else, Noctis had received a response in some shape or form. The first and _only_ time Noctis had prayed for himself, he had been ignored. 

Then the Autumn Solstice came, with its festivities in honor of the Astrals and the celebrations honoring and remembering those who had passed. The voices grew until they were a constant jabber in Noctis's ears. Then came the ritual to honor Bahamut, and Noctis grew still and quiet. 

The King of the Astrals had appeared in the middle of the worship, extinguishing the lights of the temple with a gust of wind and his statue coming to life in an eerie blue silhouette. He'd publicly denounced Noctis as a priest of the Temple of the Astrals, deeming him "unfit" to lead in the worship of the Six and stripping him of his priesthood, in front of thousands of people. 

Noctis had glossed over the rest, explaining in the simplest of ways how he fled from Insomnia and into the wilds beyond. He had looked to Nyx with a look not entirely dissimilar to a kicked puppy, and Nyx couldn't have moved faster, pulling Noctis into his arms and pressing kisses to his forehead. Noct had wept in his arms and grieved for hours. Nyx ended up carrying him back to their shared little cabin and putting him to bed. 

The closer the Spring Solstice grows, the more irritable Noctis becomes. Nyx knows it's from the voices, from the veil between Eos and the Beyond growing thinner as the planet achieves equilibrium between night and day. Nyx doesn't let himself be hurt by Noct's shortening temper, when he's snapped at and argued with and shoved aside. Nyx knows it's not his fault, knows he'll see an apology later, when the voices are muted because Noctis is on his third cup of wine. 

They can't make skin-on-skin contact anymore, because Noctis's magic rages through his veins and any time they get close, actual arcs of _lightning_ jump between pale and tanned skin. They leave marks of starbursts that ache for days afterword. Nyx, upset, heart aching for different reasons, sleeps on the couch. 

One night, after Noctis has a particularly rough day and is passed out on the couch, Nyx decides he's had enough of watching his little star be hurt like this. He leaves Noctis a glass of water, a potion and a note explaining his whereabouts before he packs up and heads out for Galahd. 

He spends a week at the small island nation, scouring through book after book, talking with witches and wizards, alchemists and priests, searching day and night for anything to help Noctis. He fills a notebook full of notes on runes, symbols, spells, and potions, finding hardly anything. Then it hits him, one night when he's shaving away some of the scruff on his chin. 

Tattoos. 

The rest of his visit is spent with the rune-maker woman that did his own. He talks with the old crone for _hours_ , scribbling down references and notes on what tattoos work best, how to best apply them, how to take care of them and imbue magic into them to strengthen their power. She gives him her best needles, her most powerful ink, and sends him on his way with a promise that he'll bring Noctis back to her when they're done; she wants to see what her advice has spawned. Nyx agrees, and leaves for home the next morning. 

When Nyx arrives back at the cabin, it is six days before the Spring Solstice. Noctis is in a surprisingly good mood, given the fact that the voices grow more restless the closer to the Solstice it gets. He perks up when Nyx pulls out his book full of notes, flips to the pages with the tattoos, explains what they'll do if Noctis agrees to have them done. 

Noct, of course, agrees almost immediately, and for the first time in almost a month, Nyx can see hope in those beautiful crystal blue eyes. 

Noctis demand they start right away, stripping off most of his clothes right then and there, arms held out to his sides. 

"I'm ready," he says with a wavering voice. "Free me from my curse." 

Nyx has four sets of tattoos planned out. The first, set into the line of Noctis's cheekbones, wrists, and ankles, are small black arrows, made to tame that which is wild and uncontrollable. Nyx himself has two of these, because Galahdian magic is, at its roots, wild magic, and the arrows help with control. Except Noctis's magic isn't from Galahd. Noctis's magic comes from the Astrals themselves, the wildest of them all. Nyx has a hard time inking the first into pale skin, because Noct's magic lashes out and hurts them both. It lessens after each arrow, and after the sixth, all that's left is a mild tingle. 

Nyx wipes the blood away, presses a soft kiss to Noct's lips, and starts on the next set. 

They both decide that the next will be the lines that ward off spirits – two small, elongated diamonds, set into the skin over Noctis's temples, following the line of his eyebrows. These are made without much of a fuss, but the relief is plainly visible in Noct's face and posture. The constant lines in his forehead from pinched brows smooths out, and when the second tattoo is finished, he lets out a long sigh. He takes Nyx's hand and just holds it for a moment. He nods when he's ready to continue. 

The set that Nyx designed to help the flow of Noctis's magic is the simplest of them all. He inks long, thin black lines onto various parts of Noct's body: along his shoulder blades, on the sides of his throat, down along his collarbones and his ribs; one on each forearm, from wrist to the crease of his elbow and the same with the backs of his calves. They were the easiest. 

The symbol to ward against the eyes of the Astrals is, by far, the most difficult. Noctis has his reservations, because his magic _comes_ from the Astrals, what will happen if they can't see him? Nyx is reassuring, explains that the sigil only prevents the Six from finding him; it doesn't break his connection with them entirely. Noctis agrees, and Nyx gets started. 

The sigil is in the center of his chest, right below the line of Noct’s pectorals. Nyx thinks it looks like a chocobo’s foot, but the woman he’d spoken to assured him it was legitimate, and Noctis had a look of recognition on his face when Nyx showed him the design. 

This one was a challenge if only because Noct kept squirming and shifting, as if he were in pain. But whenever Nyx asked if he needed to stop, Noctis just shook his head and forced himself to sit still. 

There was no big fanfare when Nyx was done, no earth-shattering rumble of angry gods or glowing lights. It was just... Quiet. They'd been working for hours; it was well past midnight, and dawn would soon be approaching. Nyx was dead tired, ready to crawl into bed and sleep for days, but Noct came first. 

It was a surprise to see Noctis crying, and Nyx was quick to rush over and start voicing concerns. What's wrong? Does anything hurt? What's the matter? What can I do? 

The look that Noctis gives him brings Nyx to silence. 

"It's quiet." 

Noctis laughs, a short breath of a laugh, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. There's another laugh, a real one this time, and the tears keep coming. His hands come up to grab at Nyx's as they make eye contact, and Nyx has never seen Noctis so happy before. Then Noct seems to realize that they're actually holding hands and looks down at the contact between them, skin on bare skin. He laughs again, looks back up at Nyx, and rushes in for a kiss. Nyx wraps his arms around Noctis's waist and spins him around the room. A laugh of his own bubbles up and interrupts the kiss. 

When he touches their foreheads together, they're both wearing smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got yelled at for staying up to write this, despite having work in the morning. RIP @ me. 
> 
> Worth it. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated!~ <3

**Author's Note:**

> I might write more. 
> 
> Maybe.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!~  
> Come throw shit into my ask box on [Tumblr](http://grimmvertigo.tumblr.com)!


End file.
